WHITE CLOVER 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 41 - 챕터 50

Clover's POV"Yeah..." she responded, tilting the bottle slightly as she poured more wine into our glasses, the liquid glinting beneath the chandelier lights.We chatted idly for a while, laughing softly, exchanging small observations about the guests, the dresses, it turns out that just like me she was also rejected from that fashion school in France and hoping to try again next year.An heiress like herself could easily go to any school of choice with her parents help or without...I guess she was like me too that felt like I had something to prove...a life to truly live.In a sudden the noise died down , the background music slowed... then stopped entirely.The abrupt silence rippled through the hall like a held breath.My gaze lifted instinctively, following everyone else's, until it settled on a tall man standing confidently at the center of the stage, a microphone held loosely in his hand."Ladies and gentlemen," the MC announced, his voice echoing clearly through the vast hall,

Clover's POVHis words hung in the air like smoke, thick, choking, impossible to ignore. My mind fogged over instantly, swirling with a chaotic storm of thoughts, fears, and twisted possibilities.Was that a threat? A promise? Or something even more unhinged?Before I could process it, his fingers clenched my jaw tightly, forcing my face up to his. He kissed me roughly, demandingly, no gentleness, no patience. I tried to pull away, but he bit my lower lip hard enough to draw a groan from deep in my throat.By the time he finally released me, my lungs burned, and I felt utterly drained of oxygen.As he turned to leave, something impulsive surged inside me. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, hugging him tightly, my cheek pressed between his shoulder blades."Mr. Hanson...calm down for a moment," I mumbled against the fabric of his suit.I had no idea why I was acting so recklessly. Maybe I was tired of always playing the naive, terrified little girl. Maybe a part of me want

Clover's POV:Reaching the kitchen, chefs, cooks, and other kitchen staff were busy. The whole place was bustling with frantic energy; everyone moving from one station to another, a chaotic symphony of clanging pots and sizzling pans, the air thick with steam and spices that did little to mask my inner turmoil.As I started looking around for the water dispenser, my eyes darting desperately, I caught sight of Mrs. Hanson speaking with the head chef, her poised figure a stark contrast to the frenzy around her."Oh, Clover!"I froze as my name rolled out of her mouth.Clearing my throat well enough, though it scraped like sandpaper, I turned around to see her approaching with a warm smile.God help meI glanced longingly at the water dispenser in the distance by the left side."Mrs. Hanson..." I smiled weakly, my eyes drifting back to her."I would like to speak with you... Clove," she stated, folding her hands in front as she spoke, her tone gleeful yet laced with something ambiguous.

Clover's POV:The blood on the dagger was her blood, warm and vital only moments before, now cooling in betrayal!With the way her arms were loosely wrapped around her belly, as if cradling a secret wound or protecting something fragile even in death... my guess was right, a stab to the gut, intimate and deliberate, twisting deeper than flesh.Oh my goodness!!This is horrifying! Now it all made sense, what Jessica had whispered in hushed about glimpsing into his 'dark side,' the abyss staring back. Was that why her face shrank into pallor anytime I brought him up or uttered the name Valentine, as if speaking it aloud summoned ghosts?Could it be that the whole family were witnesses to this scene yet complicit in silence.What am I even talking about... This family already had deep roots in the mafia, So the rumors were true, Calhoun was indeed a psychopath, his soul a barren wasteland where empathy withered and died young.But the question that bugged me relentlessly, was why?Wh

Clover's POVYes, I was finally going home... to peace. I would sleep knowing I'm not fucking waking up at six to mow the lawn or hide my face from a particular man... no more tiptoeing around shadows and threats."Yes, home," I responded slower but coolly, steadying my voice, meeting his gaze with forced composure.Calhoun only hummed a low response... a sound that vibrated through me, ambiguous and unreadable.I don't know why my feet remained rooted to the floor, like I was afraid of parting, afraid that he might get bored of me by the time I'm back, afraid I may never see his face up close again, that intense stare that both terrified and thrilled me.Still, a foolish part of me stood patiently... waiting... waiting for a response that read, please stay, I don't want you out of my sight... some sign that I mattered in his twisted world.In the end, he never spoke, just continued his conversation with Simon as if I were invisible... a ghost in the air, dismissed without effort.Inh